I Had A Baby At 50

It was nearly a decade-long journey to have my second child, Mark. I was 19 when I had my first child, a daughter—she’s now 37. I was widowed when she was four years old, and while I dreamed of having a son, I gave up on that idea once my husband died. I didn’t think I would ever love someone like that ever again.

But in 2008, I met Kenan. We quickly fell in love and knew we wanted a child together, and we started planning for it right away. We got married in 2011, when I was 42, and I underwent seven in vitro fertilization procedures over five years.

All of them were unsuccessful. I lost hope that I would become a mother for the second time. Sometimes, I felt like I was losing my mind, because my son would constantly appear in my dreams, saying, “I will come to you, Mom, wait!”

When I was 47, we decided to take a pause on the IVF. By the time I was 49, I started to feel depressed. My husband suggested a change of scenery, so in October 2018, we went on a 42-day road trip across Europe.

During the trip, we stopped at the Montserrat monastery in Spain, where we saw the Black Madonna [a 12th-century wooden statue of the Virgin Mary and baby Christ]. I asked her for a miracle. In that moment, while I was praying, I was so sure that she could hear me, and I could feel her presence.

A few months later, in January 2019, I found out that I was pregnant—with no fertility interventions. After so many years of attempts, it felt like a miracle. I felt an enormous, almost overwhelming sense of happiness. I was absolutely confident in my health and physical strength.

The entire pregnancy was straightforward: There was no nausea, no fatigue, no complications. I remained active, practiced yoga until my last days of pregnancy and walked at least six kilometres daily.

It was actually easier than my first pregnancy when I was studying at university and trying to do everything at once. My life changed completely at 50, and not just because I was a new mother again.

When I was seven months pregnant, my family and I immigrated to Canada from Antalya, Turkey, where we had lived for 14 years for work. We settled first in Toronto before moving to Aurora, Ont. It was a real challenge.

A new country, a different system, no familial support. Everything that once felt stable simply disappeared. I didn’t speak any English so I felt isolated at times, talking mostly to baby Mark.

Looking back, I see how difficult—and beautiful—that period was. When I think about the future, I think about making sure I continue to give my son, who is now six, everything he needs. My husband and I are investing so much in his development: We put him in gymnastics classes. We speak Russian at home, and Mark attends school in English. My husband also speaks Azerbaijani, his mother tongue, with Mark.

These first years of my son’s life are the most precious times of mine. He is growing very fast, and I try to live every moment with him. —As told to Rebecca Gao